'To provide the right background for the genuine change that Schleiermacher
makes in the history of hermeneutics, let us consider a point which
Schleiermacher himself does not and which, since Schleiermacher, has totally
disappeared from the sphere of hermeneutics (its absence curiously
narrows Dilthey's historical interest in the history of hermeneutics);
nevertheless, it in fact dominates the problem of hermeneutics and must be
taken into account if we are to understand Schleiermacher's place in its
history. We begin with this proposition: "to understand means to come to an
understanding with each other" (sich miteinander verstehen). Understanding
is, primarily, agreement (Verständnis ist zunächst
Einverständnis). Thus people usually understand (verstehen) each
other immediately, or they make themselves understood (verständigen
sich) with a view toward reaching agreement (Einverständnis). Coming
to an understanding (Verständigung), then, is always coming to an
understanding about something. Understanding each other (sich verstehen)
is always understanding each other with respect to something. From
language we learn that the subject matter (Sache) is not merely an arbitrary
object of discussion, independent of the process of mutual understanding
(Sichverstehen), but rather is the path and goal of mutual understanding
itself. And if two people understand each other independently of any
topic, then this means that they understand each other not only in this
or that respect, but in all essential things that unite human beings.
Understanding becomes a special task only when natural life, this joint
meaning of the meant where both intend a common subject matter, is
disturbed. Where misunderstandings have arisen or where an expression of
opinion alienates us because it is unintelligible, there natural life in
the subject matter intended is impeded in such a way that the meaning is
given as the opinion of another, the opinion of the Thou or of the text,
or in general as a fixed datum. And even then in general one attempts to
reach a substantive agreement - not just sympathetic understanding of
the other person - and this in such a way that one again proceeds via the
subject matter. Only if all these movements comprising the art of conversation
- argument, question and answer, objection and refutation, which are
undertaken in regard to a text as an inner dialogue of the soul seeking
understanding - are in vain is the inquiry detoured. Only then does the
effort of understanding become aware of the individuality of the Thou
and take account of his uniqueness. If we are dealing with a foreign
language, the text will already be the object of a grammatical, linguistic
interpretation, but that is only a preliminary condition. The real problem
of understanding obviously arises when, in the endeavor to understand the
content of what is said, the reflective question arises: how did he come
to such an opinion? For this kind of question reveals an alienness that
is clearly of a quite different kind and ultimately signifies a
renunciation of shared meaning.'

Ray says that I am of the
majority opinion (concerning Lost in Translation), and notes
the well-established narrative convention of the autobiographical
protagonist who is forecast a brilliant future.

1. I did like the movie, and I thought it was 'good' - or maybe
I should say I 'thought it was good' - but my reactions to movies especially
(other art forms too, though, depending) tend to be very hermetic.

2. I'm not sure how important the 'autobiographical' part was supposed
to be. The people who seem to make a fuss about it are the ones who didn't
like the movie, and when they bring it up it always seems as if they do
so only so that they can sneer at the fact that the director enjoyed
privilege.

3. I thought the scene in question (where Bob forecasts Charlotte's
brilliant future) was played with a clear understanding (on our part,
and on the characters' parts) of the existence of the convention, not
just as an artistic convention, either, but a conversational, interpersonal,
ethical one. It was the way it was played that I took to indicate
how much faith Bob had in Charlotte's abilities. Or, well, not her
abilities. But talking as they had been about whether or not life gets
any better, or easier, he was in no position to assure her, given his
own unsettled life.

Touching Evil
doesn't require, but requests, maybe, to be seen movie-style, lights in
the room off and everyone shutting up: not because the murders set an
especially creepy mood (they do not), but because the matter of the show
consists so much of moods, looks, variations on near-silence. At times
this even gives it a slightly delicate quality, as if each episode could
pull apart in one's hands, with the narrative details of each week's
case presented only in enough detail to give the detectives something
new to negotiate.

And at other times - far more apparent when reading than when writing,
though present for both - it's the need to be done, over with,
on to the next thing, that presses in and renders me incapable of anything
else. I have come to think that this is rarely due to whatever is actually
before me; rather, it is my more basic need for a change of life, hoping,
insisting, stupidly, futilely, that that change will be effected by the
end of the current paragraph, or sentence.

162Cult of the genius out of vanity. - Because we think well of ourselves,
but nonetheless never suppose ourselves capable of producing a painting
like one of Raphael's or a dramatic scene like one of Shakespeare's, we
convince ourselves that the capacity to do so is quite extraordinarily
marvellous, a wholly uncommon accident, or, if we are still religiously
inclined, a mercy from on high. Thus our vanity, our self-love, promotes
the cult of the genius: for only if we think of him as being very much
remote from us, as a miraculum, does he not aggrieve us (even
Goethe, who was without envy, called Shakespeare his star of the most
distant heights; in regard to which one might recall the line: 'the stars,
these we do not desire'). But, aside from these suggestions of our vanity,
the activity of the genius seems in no way fundamentally different from
the activity of the inventor of machines, the scholar of astronomy or
history, the master of tactics. All these activities are explicable if
one pictures to oneself people whose thinking is active in one
direction, who employ everything as material, who always zealously
observe their own inner life and that of others, who perceive everywhere
models and incentives, who never tire of combining together the means
available to them. Genius too does nothing except learn first how to
lay bricks then how to build, except continually seek for material and
continually form itself around it. Every activity of man is amazingly
complicated, not only that of the genius: but none is a 'miracle'. -
Whence, then, the belief that genius exists only in the artist, orator
and philosopher? that only they have 'intuition'? (Whereby they are
supposed to possess a kind of miraculous eyeglass with which they can
see directly into 'the essence of the thing'!) It is clear that people
speak of genius only where the effects of the great intellect are most
pleasant to them and where they have no desire to feel envious. To call
someone 'divine' means: 'here there is no need for us to compete'. Then,
everything finished and complete is regarded with admiration, everything
still becoming is under-valued. But no one can see in the work of the artist
how it has become; that is its advantage, for wherever one can
see the act of becoming one grows somewhat cool. The finished and perfect
art of representation repulses all thinking as to how it has become; it
tyrannizes as present completeness and perfection. That is why the masters
of the art of representation count above all as gifted with genius and
why men of science do not. In reality, this evaluation of the former and
undervaluation of the latter is only a piece of childishness in the
realm of reason.

163The serious workman. - Do not talk about giftedness, inborn
talents! One can name great men of all kinds who were very little
gifted. They acquired greatness, became 'geniuses' (as we put
it), through qualities the lack of which no one who knew what they were
would boast of: they all possessed that seriousness of the efficient workman
which first learns to construct the parts properly before it ventures to
fashion a great whole; they allowed themselves time for it, because they
took more pleasure in making the little, secondary things well than in the
effect of a dazzling whole. The recipe for becoming a good novelist, for
example, is easy to give, but to carry it out presupposes qualities
one is accustomed to overlook when one says 'I do not have enough talent'.
One has only to make a hundred or so sketches for novels, none longer
than two pages but of such distinctness that every word in them is
necessary; one should write down anecdotes each day until one has learned
how to give them the most pregnant and effective form; one should be
tireless in collecting and describing human types and characters; one
should above all relate things to others and listen to others relate,
keeping one's eyes and ears open for the effect produced on those present,
one should travel like a landscape painter or costume designer; one should
excerpt for oneself out of the individual sciences everything that will
produce an artistic effect when it is well described, one should, finally,
reflect on the motives of human actions, disdain no signpost to instruction
about them and be a collector of these things by day and night. One should
continue in this many-sided exercise some ten years: what is then created
in the workshop, however, will be fit to go out into the world. - What,
however, do most people do? They begin, not with the parts, but with the
whole. Perhaps they chance to strike a right note, excite attention and
from then on strike worse and worse notes, for good, natural reasons.
- Sometimes, when the character and intellect needed to formulate such
a life-plan are lacking, fate and need take their place and lead the
future master step by step through all the stipulations of his trade.